


Sex, Damon and Bonnie Bennett

by SkySamuelle



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Bamon Kink Meme, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Kinkyness, Oral Sex, Power Play, Semi-Public Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 01:36:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4460270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkySamuelle/pseuds/SkySamuelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of old short stories that are purely about Bonnie and Damon kink-ing with each other - mostly written for the Bamon kink meme or other memes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clandestine affairs are a dangerous thing, especially when Damon Salvatore is involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: vague spoilers for season 2.
> 
> AN: Written for the Bamon kink meme. Prompt: Damon makes Bonnie stay on the phone with her boyfriend while he goes down on her.

 

This is wrong. Bonnie is not so far gone that she doesn’t know it.

She knows it so well that she had decided her relationship with Jeremy Gilbert was not a lost cause after all just yesterday. Nevermind the fact that she can’t even remember those fuzzy, tender feelings she used to bask in. First love, puppy love, the kind of innocent lightness that sped through her bloodstream whenever Jeremy looked at her in a certain way, full of longing and hope.

Jeremy has been looking at her that way again lately, insisting they are worth another shot, but when Bonnie looks into his warm brown eyes, she does not feel filled with light anymore.

Maybe she does not have it in her to feel something so pure anymore but for Jeremy, she will try to force that capacity back into her soul.

Or maybe not. It’s not for Jeremy she is so set on resurrecting the past if she wants to be honest, at least with herself.

She is just terrified, terrified shitless of this clandestine thing she started with Damon Salvatore a few months ago. It’s a raw, ferocious _thing_ she desperately wants to end, but every single time she screams and threatens, hisses in anger or explains calmly that it’s over, they need to stop, and that it was the last time…

Damon simply refuses to take her words at face value. He keeps coming to her, pushing her buttons, and as soon as he invades her personal space and his blue eyes narrow on hers, it’s already too late. She is already burning, burning for him.

She wishes she could go back to those days, when she did not recognize the burn that his proximity scattered through her senses and it was so easy to mistake it for annoyance or irritation.

Now there’s nothing to shield her from this new, ruthless awareness of him as soon he steps in a room. Now she knows how it feels when their bodies move against each other, the shudders that rip through her flesh whenever his teeth nip at her sensitive spots, the exact timbre and sound of his voice as he murmurs silly endearments in her ear. Now that she knows these things, she can’t set herself back. She can’t just…un-know any of these things, not when Damon is so determined to not allow her to forget.

So she asked Jeremy out. She did not mean to be cruel, but Damon would not get the hint otherwise.

Yet her little scheme fell flat and useless.

She understood it as soon she came to her bedroom and found Damon sprawled on her bed, body taut with anger.

_“Funny, Bonnie, I never took you for a coward. Should I be flattered that you’re lowering yourself to hiding behind a kid?”_

She hates how Damon constantly brings up her former boyfriend’s age. First because the age gap was not that wide to justify all the mocking lines about cradle-robbing and such. Second because Damon Salvatore has no place to judge anyone’s love-life choices. Third, where does _he_ get off, thinking he has the right to be jealous? They don’t have that kind of relationship.

They have no relationship at all.

It’s more like… an association. A totally accidental association where you need to work with someone often, and casually hang out around them and have completely uninhibited sex because you don’t care about their opinion of you.

That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less.

_“Not everything is about you, Damon. Ever thought that maybe I want to date Jeremy again because I still love him? ”_

And Damon had laughed harshly, pulling her to him by her elbow, letting her slaphimhardjust to grasp her hand and kiss her palm after.

And she had let him press his mouth to hers, firm and insistent but oddly gentle too, nearly reverent, until she was kissing him back heatedly, and they were stumbling toward the bed.

It had not occurred to her how wrong it was until her was pausing above her, working her shirt off, and everything in her was singing with anticipation.

Which brings her to where she is now, on her back, trying to clear her mind of the haze of desire and swatting his exploring hands away while his lips brush her bare stomach.

“I need to call Jeremy,” is probably the worst thing she could’ve said at the moment, but it tumbles out of her mouth all the same, breathlessly but clearly.

Shame and guilt wash through her as her words echo in the room, and she must close her eyes to not look down at Damon, the blue of his eyes losing some of its heat to reflect instantly that steely coolness she hates.

“Do that,” comes his response, a silky taunt accompanied by his fingertips ghosting over her navel.

She should flip the arrogant vampire off her body and onto the floor, and if she had any sense left she would. But her brain has its way of bypassing conventional logic when Damon provoked her so openly, and she finds she can’t let the challenge pass. Hence, her cell phone is levitating out of her bag and into her hand, all while she glares at Damon who is glaring at her.

“I miss you,” she says to Jeremy, her tone smug under the superficial flirting, smile thinning as Damon’s nails dig in the soft skin of her sides.

Bonnie squirms, barely following Jeremy’s rush of elated pleasantries – something about how he was just thinking of her and remembering whatever they used to do together- because it’s hard to listen properly when you have a half-naked vampire running his tongue up and down your stomach.

The devious, wicked glint behind the sharp gaze that never leaves her face mesmerizes her and confuses her: she can’t move, can’t look away.

 _Wrong_ – her conscience drills with increasing alarm somewhere inside her head, but it has little power against the heat coiling in her womb as hands part her thighs, primly folding up her skirt to expose her underwear.

 _Gods, when did I become such a bitch?_ \- the witch thinks as she forces herself to blink up at the ceiling.

She doesn’t want to pay attention to the soft breath blowing between her legs, and how hot she feels _everywhere._

She doesn’t want to think of arrogant, smart-mouthed, mentally unbalanced and unfortunately attractive assholes. At all.

“Bonnie?”

Jeremy pursues, but she suddenly can’t remember, for the life of her, what the hell he had asked her in first place.

“Sorry, I …”

_Settle down, don’t enjoy the cool fingers stringing your panties aside, or the thumb flicking over your clit. Keep talking, keep breathing._

“I was looking up the Grimoire before I called, I just found a passage l had missed earlier… ”

If Jeremy even notices her rushing and tripping over her improvised excuse, he thinks nothing of it. “Anything interesting?”

Bonnie’s hips arch up swiftly, meeting Damon’s heated, eager mouth halfway.

“Very…” she breathes out, head lolling backward in some kind of awe as _he_ kisses her _there,_ hungry and slow and relentless. She feels like she is bathed in fire and the one thing she can do is let the cell phone fall down on the mattress and cover her mouth with her hands to stifle her scream.

She comes with a startled cry as his fingers pinch her engorged nub just painfully enough to make her eyes water in pleasure.

And it’s good, so perfect it feels like she has just touched God.

Complete mental black-out, nerves sizzling with ecstasy, heart racing, pleasure humming underneath every inch of her skin.

It should be enough, but oddly it isn’t. Something is missing, and it’s more than a bit startling to realize just what Bonnie’s itching for.

The weight of a well-toned, cool body above hers - cheek to cheek, chest to chest, legs entwined with hers.

In fact, this new craving is so surprising that Bonnie almost misses Damon crawling up to her, her phone against his ear, flippant smirk on his shiny, wet lips.

When did he get hold of that?

And of course, hitting at his shoulder and fighting to snatch the object away is like fighting a cement vice.

Except cement would never look so incredibly delighted at hearing Jeremy calling her name pointlessly on the other side.

Then the damn vampire thrusts two fingers roughly inside her still aching sex, curling and scissoring in such a deeply satisfying way that she forgets about being furious for a moment or two.

“Jeremy, I’m _so_ sorry to say this to you, but I don’t think you’ll be meeting this little witch at the Grill anytime today. I’m planning on keeping her very busy. All day long.”

How will she ever fix this mess up?

She is _so_ popping his blood vessels into the next century as soon he puts down the phone. Or the shock fades. Or his fingers are out of her hopefully satisfied body. Whatever comes first.


	2. Bloody Desserts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Add a certain time of the month,a flustered, beyond mortified Bonnie, a naughty, snarky Damon and a veeerrrry happy ending is produced :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: vague spoilers for season 2.
> 
> AN: Written for the Bamon kink meme. Prompt: No one has ever gone down on Bonnie and Damon attempts to rectify this.

 

Damon does not truly understand it when Bonnie gets self-conscious about her body. Mainly because he thinks her body is the best thing he ever happened to put his hands on. It’s so tiny, all fragile bones and soft, brown, supple skin, delicate but filled with strength and power. There’s not a single inch of it he does not find absolutely palatable.

In fact, the one detail stopping him from sinking his fangs all over it is the notion that she would find his quest more painful than enjoyable.

So when a certain time of the month approaches and her scent becomes tangier, her body fuller, her curves softer, he can’t avoid being disappointed that she hides it all away with looser blouses and long, flowing skirts.

He has not any words to describe the aroma of the sweet blood spent by her womb – he just knows it’s powerful beyond imagination, and breathing in its smell sends desire thrumming across his skull.

The little witch doesn’t see it, of course. She will shrink away with an embarrassed pout whenever he’s leaning toward her a bit more, sniffing her appreciatively as her sex releases a new surge of that thickened red honey.

Such a shame. It’s a waste, really: if only she allowed him to taste her _once_ instead of being her judgey little self, he would prove to her that oral sex is nothing to feel demeaned about, whether you are on the receiving or the giving end.

One day, he tells her that out loud.

“Just once, that’s all I need,” Damon murmurs against her neck, with an exaggerated wistfulness that is supposed to make his proposition more appealing. He even does his ‘eye thing’ to stay on the safe side.

Bonnie only slaps his chest and scrunches up her cute little nose in a perfect expression of disgusted indignation.

“It’s gross.”

And despite her tone, it’s not a ‘no’ so Damon gleefully takes it as a green light to lay it down thick.

“Come on, if you let me try it once and you don’t like it, I promise I am never bringing it up again.”

The offer gives the witch a pause, because while she is sure she should refuse at once, she also knows her boyfriend can be persistent to the point of mulish obsession. Last thing she wants is spending years with a vampire cajoling and pouting over this subject. It was bad enough when she vetoed biting under any circumstances.

After all, Damon is vampire. However little she likes the idea of him feeding off her blood, he will never stop craving it, because that is his nature. And if there was one way for him to get what he needs without hurting her, maybe it was a bit _unfair_ to him, withholding it without even trying once?

Relationships are about compromising… and she has never been too good at that where _he_ is concerned.

Damon kisses the corner of her jaw, making a throaty sound so alike to a purr that she can’t stop herself from smiling a little.

The smile falls off her face right at the next thing Damon growls low on her skin “I want to know I’m the first man to go down on my little bird.”

Bonnie shudders and stiffens a little, half-wanting to reprimand him for assuming, half-wondering how he _knows_ and definitely disliking the wide gap between their levels of sexual experience.

However freeing dating someone utterly inhibition-free could be, sometimes it could be just as uncomfortable.

She clears her throat awkwardly. “Is it a serious promise, or just something you’re saying to air out your lungs?”

He happily nuzzles the hollow between her neck and shoulder, basically sizzling with excitement.

“I solemnly swear,” he drawls, silkily and seductively enough to make her skin crawl.

Bonnie hesitates as Damon’s hand strokes her thigh.

“So do we have a deal?” he insists cheekily, lips brushing her earlobe like he forgot all notions of breathing space.

“We do,” she concedes begrudgingly on a sigh.

“Marvelous!” he chirps, already maneuvering her toward her bed. Bonnie allows him, not entirely sure if she should find his enthusiasm scary or flattering.

She decides both options have merit.

Before the young witch knows it, she is stretching down on the mattress, legs and bottom hanging off the bed as Damon’s fingers unbutton her jeans and pull them down to her ankles without too many preambles.

He is too smooth and sure and silent about it for her liking.

Her knees tremble a little when he parts them, she can’t control it, but then his oddly warm lips lay an open-mouthed, lingering kiss on each one and the trembling can only subside.

“I love you,” he says with all the placid, somber confidence in the world and it’s something only Damon could formulate in that manner while running his palms up and down her thighs, right before squeezing her ass gently and pushing her underwear down.  

“I know,” she interjects with a forced sassiness, desperately wanting to shed the feeling of unease that has suddenly settled on her.

Damon starts by slowly licking the path from the sensitive spot under her knee to her inner thigh.

“Does it feel good yet?”

Even in this situation, his arrogance sort of amuses her.

“Not quite,” she chuckles, just to bite hard on her bottom lip the next second when a wet tongue slides between her folds, lapping up her blood. He does so methodically, with gusto, leaving no part of her cunt neglected and then there’s that contented purr from deep within his throat that melts the tension from her muscles at once.

There’s such a huge relief in hearing her boyfriend‘s primitive response to this most natural part of her.

A lifetime ago, when she was barely in her teens, Grams used to stress with such an emphasis that monthly fluxes weren’t something to be ashamed of, but to be proud of, because they were the link between a woman and the eternal cycles of the moon, the mark of that exclusively feminine capacity to generate life.

Listening to those ‘insane ramblings’ had left a younger Bonnie just a bit dreamy, flattered, fulfilled.

This is the feeling that Damon is giving her back right now, feeding off something that most men would probably find distasteful: the sense of being wholly free and entirely worthy of love, flawless despite her taints and faults.

His mouth latches on her clitoris and starts a gentle suction that ends in a sharp pressure of teeth over flesh. Something arises and grows inside her, a tidal wave of sticky, capricious pleasure.

It’s a dark, unprecedented feeling, but it still causes her to arch her lower back in order to silently seek more of it.

Yet Bonnie is more than a little taken aback when Damon’s lips move downwards and open wide so his tongue can dive inside her slit and reach deep. He gets to sucking enthusiastically like her pussy is his favorite lollipop.

“Fuck!” she swears heatedly, as cool hands cup her ass and hold her up, angling her to better receive his penetration. Jaggedly, she picks up the rhythm, pushing back good and proper against his mouth.

It feels so much better than she has ever believed it could, and her orgasm crashes down on her like a lightning bolt, intense and all consuming. She twists in Damon’s hold, feeling bereft as that fire-embedded bliss eventually abandons her.

She raggedly breathes this loss of grace in and out, loose-limbed and satisfied, realizing just now the damp sheen of sweat that sticks her shirt to her back.

Kneeing at her feet, Damon is licking his lips leisurely, sighing with a humming, well-satisfied noise before pulling her underwear up to cover her sex. He even gives an affectionate pat to her mound and a furtive peck to the exposed sliver of her stomach, then soundly drops his weight on the space beside her.

Bonnie has the fleeting, totally random whim to knee the vampire in the groin even before he starts talking.

That broad, cocky, naughty grin and the victorious twinkle behind those cobalt eyes are frankly more than she can stand.

“I dare say _I_ won our bet.”

He’s playing with a lock of her hair, twirling it around his finger and oozing conceit, and she can still smell the metallic tang of her blood on his breath. It clings to her skin but it doesn’t disturb her as she might have expected.

So, a _loving_ swat lands over his head but Bonnie still forces herself to give him his due, although from under a safe veneer of sternness:

“Shut up and _maybe_ we can do it again sometimes.”

_Like tomorrow_ – the witch considers privately, not without a certain wishfulness – _or right now?_

“Ya, mein furher!” Damon chimes in at her side, doing a mock military salute, and it’s transparently obvious that his smugness is anything but diminished.

He pulls her to his chest and Bonnie smirks, molding her body to his and resting her forehead against his throat.

She may technically have lost, but she feels much like a winner at the moment.


	3. Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damon asks for a peculiar birthday present… and he receives it.  
> Spoilers: vague spoilers for season 2.
> 
> AN: Written for the Bamon kink meme. Prompt: skin contrast

This is his birthday gift. The one he asked for, the request he bothered to be extremely detailed about, so Damon takes his time to admire it inside its enticing wrappings before getting his eager hands all over it.

Which is not as easy as it should be since his fingers were hitching to touch the second Bonnie let her black silk dressing ( _his_ present for _her_ last birthday) fall to the floor.

She is sitting on his bed right beside him, dark hair pulled tight in a bun, exposing her beautiful, fragile neck. The stiff set of her shoulders reveals she is not as fearless as she is striving to appear, but the spark of pride and fierceness that flashes behind those green eyes reminds him that she will never be the one to back down.

The crimson red corset, with the back laces pulled tight, pushes her breasts up, squeezing them against each other in two firm and supple-looking globes.

He licks his lips in anticipation, makes the ice in his shot-glass swirl in his whiskey, completely unashamed about how pointedly he’s staring at her cleavage.

Bonnie barely swallows a scoffing sound that should irritate him, but instead puts a wider smirk on his lips.

He lays his palm on her collarbone, enjoying how heated her skin feels in contrast to his and the speeding heartbeat that thrums through her flesh and into his, before pushing slowly pushing her down so her back is flat against the mattress .

His fingers trace lingeringly the curve of her breasts, where skin meets lace, following the borders of her corset. Her breath is even and heavy, but it meets a swift intake as he starts playing with a certain knot.

The knot suddenly comes undone and Damon smiles innocently as he pulls the strings a bit too energetically, a wicked light in his cerulean eyes as her breasts are forced closer together and press against the cloth so badly that it looks like they were going to spill right out of their constricting garment.

Bonnie might put an end to his fun at any time, of course, but all she does for the moment is breathe in, square her jaw and glare up at him in a way that warms him from head to toe.

Damon releases the pressure at once, loosens the offending laces with the effortless quickness of a vampire with experience and all of sudden her chest is perfectly exposed.

The witch’s tits bounce slightly as they fall free, and his eyes glaze over the movement.

He tips his glass slightly against her sternum and the cool liquid glides gently down, along the sweet planes of her brown flesh, between and over her breasts.

Bonnie shudders at the icy sensation, shudders harder when Damon’s fingertips crawl gingerly toward her nipples, stroking soft curves and teasing tightened peaks with a feathery touch.

He is fascinated not so much by her reaction but by the contrast between his skin and hers as his hands caress her upper body, her stomach, her thighs. Her skin is an earthly, carnal brown that melts under the ivory white of his, her vital warmth searing into his lifeless coolness.

He doesn’t know why, but there’s something about the exact shade and texture of her skin that entrances him. The way her scents mingle with the poignant smell of his favorite drink arouses him even more when he dips his head downward to run his tongue along her abdomen, licking off the whiskey that is tricking down her squirming stomach.

The mingled taste of old whiskey and dark skin is everything he fantasized about and more, something to burn into his memory to replay again and again, ad infinitum.

His tongue continues its path up, toward her breasts, around her brown nipples, and Damon feels dizzy with desire, not the kind that burns as a craving to possess, but the kind that inebriates and cleanses as the most singular bliss of senses. He is vaguely aware of Bonnie’s body arching under his, her thighs spreading wider to accommodate him, her soft sighs of pleasure feeding his lust.

His hands cup her breasts, squeezing and kneading and fondling, while the vampire nips playfully at her shoulder and neck.

His mouth drifts down again when Bonnie’s nails dig into his nape, her palm cradling the side of his head to redirect him toward her chest.

Damon growls, tempted to protest that since it’s _his_ birthday, he should not be taking any directions, but since his mouth is already latching greedy on one of her nipples, objecting seems both pointless and petty. So he enjoys the moment, uses his other hand to tease her other tit and literally forgets about anything else until he realizes strong female legs are winding around his waist, urging his cock inside wet, warm depths.

On second thought, he should have known better than expecting his girl to repress her inner dominatrix for that long.

But it does not matter, he repeats to himself as he thrusts deeper and notices that, somehow, his hand and hers hand are entwined, white fingers and black fingers interlacing and grasping tightly at each other in one wobbling fist.

He likes _everything_ about this little witch. A lot.


	4. An Armistice Of Sorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. Damon and Bonnie are strangers in a bar that have bee eying one another all night…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a tvdanon prompt. kink of choice: semipublic sex against the wall. Thank you to awesome Monique for revising it.

  
  
He has watched her whole the night, insistently so, from his ‘usual’ spot at the bar - since she came in, all bright and smiling with her group of silly, loud friends.  
  
He usually loves his co-eds loose, forward and flirty so he can’t quite explain why he can’t take his eyes off from this one. Who hides something somber behind those olive-green, cat-like eyes and wears nothing very revealing.  
  
Idly, he wonders if all those years he has spent chasing the mirage of Katherine –that malicious, lying, treacherous whore!- before accidentally coming face to face with her in Dallas, 1984, finally turned him off sluts and into nuns.  
  
He decides the thought doesn’t completely displease him as the girl – Bonnie, he heard her friends calling her shoots yet another bashful glance in his directions while nervously tapping her fingers against her empty glass. Fifteen minutes since last one of her friends abandoned the table, and sweet little Bonnie still has not figured out what doing with his blatant staring.  
  
Her sudden bout of shyness amuses him –she certainly didn’t look all that intimidated until she was in company – and, maybe, it even arouses him a bit. She stayed behind for him, after all, so he thinks he can choose generosity and take her out of her misery.  
  
He strolls to her table, confident smirk in place, blue eyes shining as he takes his measure of her. She is more beautiful, close up, and that wide, lovely mouth thins a little when he makes himself comfortable in her booth, stretching his arm behind her shoulders. She is petite and smells like citrus and honey as he leans in, invading her personal space. He likes that. It fills his head with all sorts of fantasies where he drives his hand between her legs and just watches as her eyes glaze over and her mouth hangs open and her cheeks flush in pleasure.  
  
“Hello – he introduces himself with a shark-like grin, before she can voice any insincere objection to his presence– I am Damon and I am going to buy you a drink.”  
  
He might compel her right away, make it easy and simple, but he is not sure he wants easy and simple tonight. He is not thinking about feeding, for once. He might to want kiss every inch of that mocha skin without going in, fangs first.  
  
But her expressions shifts, from uncertain to disappointed to hard, and her body slinks away.  
  
“You are a _vampire_?” she grits out , like she can’t quite believe it yet but she resents her luck more than anything.  
Damon grins wider, but a bit more falsely. “Let me guess, you are a witch.”  
  
\--  
  
One heated discussion and a few aneurysms after, they are in the back alley behind the Mystic Grill and she is not complaining while he pushes her up against the dirty, cold wall.  
  
“I’m going to fry your brain if those fangs come out.” She warns, probably not as stern as she had hoped to sound.  
  
“Suit yourself.” He nods, mildly condescending as he pulls her skirt up and drives a knee between her thighs.  
  
Damon is not quite sure of how they got here, but he is certainly not complaining. There was something moving between them at that table, between a threat and an insult. Call it lust, chemistry, heat … but he might swear he saw himself reflected in her for a moment or two, and he liked that, more than he liked anything in a long time. Strange as it is, he is nearly certain she felt that same.  
“So –he smirks, malice-less, running his cool palms on the soft, bare skin of her legs and luxuriating in the feeling of her warmth– this is a truce?”  
“More like an armistice.”  
She breathes against his lips, a moment before pressing them hesitantly against his. He responds eagerly, brushing his tongue against the close of her lips, and then Bonnie is opening her mouth to his, like a hungry and needful thing that is trembling in his arms.  
It’s strange, how he finds himself brushing her hair away from her cheeks, how his body presses against hers, almost cradling it, in a way, and he suddenly she doesn’t feel like a stranger at all.  
Her tongue moves against his, and Damon feels greedy for more of her taste, of her scent, of the feeling of her breasts crushed against chest as she shudders again with a soft moan.  
  
“Bonnie. ” he tries out her name, tastes the weight of every letter as his lips linger on her jaw, but she doesn’t ask how he knows, even if she never told him.  
  
She is too busy gasping loudly in the cold air of the night, maybe in shock at the feeling of a hand kneading her soft, round ass so roughly. He can read the caution, the _want_ , the anger warring and melding together, written in every tense line of her limbs. Her arms fasten around his neck and her legs wrap unsteady around his waist.  
  
Damon smirks, his nose gliding up and down the sweet curve between her neck and shoulder, breathes her in once more before he rips off –none too gently– her cotton panties, exposing the moist flesh of her cunt to the night’s caress.  
And to his searching, eager fingers.  
  
The reluctant surrender that erupts across her features while he parts her folds slowly and thumbs her wet, hot hole is everything he fantasized and more. Her swollen lips part, her cheeks warm, and the cry that crawls from deep within her throat is an endearing mew - the face of his little witch is a portrait of delicious decadence.  
  
He kisses her again, avidly, and forces two fingers deeper inside her weeping pussy. Her inner walls wrap around his flesh like she is born for it, and he can’t help imagining it’s his dick she is tightening around.  
  
He imagines how it would feel – just as empowering, but sweeter, more sinful, more gratifying, more … just more. He wants it now and her relentless grinding on his groin is definitely not helping.  
  
Bonnie moans in a way that makes his toes to curl and his suddenly painful erection grounds against her center, insistently, until her little hands start fumbling with his belt and finally free his cock.  
  
Damon feels almost petty when he removes his fingers, wiping on her ass the juices he can’t taste, because he’s hoisting the witch up, positioning himself between her parted thighs and enjoying a bit too much the impatient sound she has just made .  
  
“Fuck… Damon, I-”  
  
It almost startles him, the sound of his name coming from her, broken by her voice into something that is both a curse and a blessing.  
His hips buck instinctively and in one vigorous stroke he is inside, buried to the hilt into her damp, hot, tight haven.  
He rests his forehead against hers, enjoying the sensation, trying to contain the burning in his gums so he won’t give in the impulse to sink his fangs deep into her beautiful throat.  
  
He would really hate to kill this one, assuming that she did not manage to torch him alive first. She looks like she has excellent reflexes and … well, the danger kinda turns him on even more.  
  
Which is probably why his cock twitches and starts thrusting hard and fast, harder and faster, like it has a will of its own.  
  
He refuses to go easy on her only because she is nearly human and Bonnie sure as hell is not asking him to. Quite the contrary, given the string of obscenities she is mouthing off into his ear.  
  
And then the _witch_ is biting _him_ , clamping her mouth around his shoulder and squeezing with her human teeth - the sting of it goes straight to his lower regions, spurring him to go deeper, more harshly.  
  
His last coherent thought before he loses himself is that he could use more truces like this one.


	5. The Claiming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damon hated it when Bonnie took whole a free night to hang out with her witch friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the Bamon Drabble Party at bubbly_fics. Prompt; Girls’ night out (Damon doesn't like it one bit).

Damon hated it when Bonnie took whole a free night to hang out with her witch friends. For one, he was pretty sure that said witches hated vampires in general and him in particular. And… they hid under their sexually liberated, feminist, crap, but Damon personally believed those five weirdo girls were most simply sluts. He has been banned from repeating that last important detail to his girlfriend unfortunately. The first and only time he did, Bonnie had launched into an endless lecture about how he was a product of his time and felt threatened by women mentally _and_ physically uninhibited.  

Every time Damon thought of that, it was almost like he could feel his ears stinging. In irritation, of course.

He did not feel _threatened_ by anything, he just did not like the influence those _bitches_ had on his girl.

Why couldn’t Bonnie stick to Caroline and Elena?

He growled low as he watched Bonnie reapplying her dark, Glossy Chocolate 01 lipstick on her full lips.

Her dress was long-sleeved and lacy, a beautiful shade of purplish-red that stood fine against her complexion. The medieval-like dress reached a few inches lower than her knees, but her shoulders were completely bare and there was a relatively generous expanse of her back and cleavage left uncovered.

Back to when he was obsessed with Elena, he had not minded the long-haired brunette’s occasionally too short skirts, too deep necklines or skimpy pjs: no, he had found her dual persona of fair maiden and self assured seductress exciting.

With Bonnie he sensed a migraine coming just looking at her as she prepared for her stupid girls night out, even if her red dress was downright modest if compared to some stuff Elena wore.

He was leaning against the edge of her bathroom door, arms crossed before his chest as he squared his jaw, grinded his teeth together and wondered why he put himself through this. He did not need to imagine her friends encouraging _his_ Bonnie to flirt around and accept drinks from horny strangers.

It was _not_ like the vampire minded that others noticed that his girlfriend was hot; Bonnie was a sexy, fierce little thing and he was proud whenever she took credit for it….unless he wasn't around when she did.

“If you glare at me any harder, I’ll combust,” Bonnie quipped, doing her hair up in a French knot and admiring her handy work in the mirror. She was smiling slightly, although _distractedly_ at his current irritation. That just put him off more.

Damon came behind her, resting his hands around her waist. “You look too delicious to be left unguarded.”

“I can look after myself.”      

He growled again, flattening his front against her back. “Can you?”

Bonnie tried, rather ineffectively, to shake free of his steely grasp. “We already talked about this. You need to rein in your territorial issues. Possibly before I lose my mind.”

The vampire smirked darkly and dipped his head lower to run his nose against her soft neck as one of his hands cupped her breast roughly through the cloth.

“You _are_ mine,” he snarled, sharp and sinister, as his fangs skimmed and nipped the contours of her bare shoulder.

“I’m going to give you the worst aneurism of your life-” she threatened through her racing heartbeat because, although it went against her principles and girl power related ideals, his possessive behavior excited her a bit.

“Will you?” he questioned smugly, fangs nipping harder at her skin less gently before his mouth suckled on a particularly sensitive spot of hers, with enough violence to leave a permanent mark.

“You’re playing dirty,” the witch moaned softly, a wave of heat rushing through her veins. Her body was melting like butter.

“I always do, sweetie.”

He squeezed her breast less than gently, two fingers literally digging into her pointy nipple and all she could do was arch into his touch, craving more.

He lifted the hem of lacy cloth up so he could sneak a hand between her legs, caressing possessively his way up to her inner thigh.

He could smell her arousal and it made him press more intimately against her back, groaning in appreciation. He teased her, taking his time stroking up and down the soft skin before reaching the place they both wanted his hand to be.

“Hurry up!” she panted, hating his self-satisfied smirk and the thrill in his blue eyes reflected in the mirror.

Damon pulled and bunched up her panties so they were no more than a thick string between her labia, exercising a wickedly sweet pressure on her clitoris. Her breath broke – Damon shifted the pressure and pushed the damp cotton deeper into her slit until she was gasping for air.

“Bastard…” she reprimanded him, noticing in her reflection that her mascara was smudged.

“I love you too, honey,” he chuckled, and the wide, wolfish grin on his face made her knees weak.

His pants pooled around his ankles while her underwear was pulled down to her knees. She hated the needy whimper that escaped her throat when his cock entered her heat harshly.          

Her hips met his in a frenzied, spasmodic dance of too deep, rough thrusts.

“More,” Bonnie commanded, bracing herself on the sink as the surge of sensual, electric power pulsed underneath every inch of her skin.

Damon complied and slid deeper with none of his usual smartass-ery, his darkening eyes mesmerized by their joined reflection, his features stiffened by a ravenous need.      

“Faster now.”

It blew her away every single time when her vampire simply obeyed her so promptly, bedroom-wise. For someone who claimed to be constantly in control of everyone and everything in his life, he sure was quick to give the dominator role over to her as soon she wanted it. She loved and treasured this quirk as the most palpable sign of his trust in her.

They came together, fast and hard, in one of the most perfectly timed explosions Bonnie had the pleasure of fantasizing about.

She kissed him deep and sloppy when he pulled out of her body, her flesh singing with fulfillment.

Damon was a bit startled when she started washing her face and do her make up over. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to be late enough as it is,” she explained without glancing back, like her reasoning should be perfectly clear.

“You’re _still_ going?” he shook his head, not quite able to shake off the pleasant aftershocks of his orgasm. His mind felt a bit… dazed.

The witch kissed his cheek affectionately and stroked his face. She _did_ feel in the mood for cuddling now, but she could not afford to let Damon win. He was the sort of person who would ask for your entire arm if you promised to give up your finger.

“I love you _very_ much, but I won’t allow you to lock me up inside a box just because you’re mentally deranged.”

She kissed him on the cheek again and then breezed out of the door.


End file.
